


The Sun Burnt Out Tonight

by WhenIShipIShipHard



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Blowjobs, Hurt/Comfort, I Tried, Lots of Angst, M/M, Peterick, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 05:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6457285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhenIShipIShipHard/pseuds/WhenIShipIShipHard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(NOTE: this isn't one of those "one person dies, leaving the other crying for eternity" endings)</p><p>Scientists have always predicted the sun would one day die out. All stars did, and the sun, after all, was just another star. However, despite all their elaborate calculations and predictions, they managed to overestimate the time of the sun's inevitable death. Drastically overestimate. </p><p>What was supposed to occur billions of years from now, when humans were presumably long extinct, was happening at the very moment. </p><p>The sun was dying, and it was taking all life on planet earth right with it. </p><p>[•]</p><p>Patrick finds himself alone in the middle of an apocalypse, and Pete is infatuated enough to invite him back home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sun Burnt Out Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> hey so this idea popped into my head a while ago and I just got around to finishing it, I hope you like this (shoutout to me for writing my longest fic yet ayy)

Another bead of sweat dropped down the side of Patrick's face, cold and warm at the same time. He grimaced at the feel of it; he always hated sweating, it made him feel gross. He hadn't stopped feeling gross for a while now, ever since _they_ came and took everything. It was just four days ago, but it seemed like a lifetime.

Scientists have always predicted the sun would one day die out. All stars did, and the sun, after all, was just another star. However, despite all their elaborate calculations and predictions, they managed to overestimate the time of the sun's inevitable death. Drastically overestimate.

What was supposed to occur billions of years from now, when humans were presumably long extinct, was happening at the very moment.

The sun was dying, and it was taking all life on planet earth right with it.

Another thing the scientists were wrong about was how long it would take. They predicted that over thousands and millions of years, the sun will slowly start to become larger and heat up. When, in fact, it happened rapidly over the course of three weeks.

Needless to say, people all over the world were either dying or panicking. Glaciers were melting, causing major flooding in the north end of the globe. In other parts, particularly around the equator, oceans were drying up quickly, evaporating into nothingness in the dry air.

Plants were dying, forests were burning, animals were becoming extinct, and food was scarce. Very scarce.

It had gotten to the point where people formed gangs and ransacked houses for their food stores, because all the grocery stores were empty.

Which is why Patrick stood where he stood today. Four days ago, he left his house to scour the old grocery stores for anything that might be left inside, a pretty desperate move, especially in this situation. But he was desperate. He came home to find the front door wide open, swinging in the loud wind. He remembered his heart thudding in his chest as he walked into the silent house, calling for his mother, his father, his siblings. No one replied. He walked from room to room, cautious and quiet, walking slowly so he didn't make much noise.

He did find them in the end.

The anguish, pain, and fear of finding their bodies, piled up in the corner of the living room, bullet wounds through their chests, had not left him in the four days since. He remembered kneeling down next to them, screaming and sobbing, shaking them and trying to make them wake up even though a part of him knew it was futile. He still felt the cold floor seeping into his torn jeans as he rocked back and forth, shuddering as the never ending glow of the sun shone outside. Days were way longer now, and sleep was almost impossible.

He had been on the run for four days, knowing he couldn't spend another second in that house. He searched the entire house from top to bottom to find anything that could be of use, and ended up with a couple of pocket knives, a lighter, a flashlight with two batteries, and a box of stale crackers under a loose floorboard in the attic; their emergency supply. The robbers had taken the rest.

Patrick wiped the sweat from his forehead. It was hot, too hot for Chicago, especially in the late fall. He looked at his watch, which somehow had survived this long. It was just past 8 p.m., but the sun still burned bright and hot as if it was 3 p.m. These days, the sun set around 11 p.m. and rose at 4 a.m.

Patrick didn't sleep anymore, not for very long. Whenever he closed his eyes, his dead family flashed before his eyelids, and if he got four hours of sleep in a night, he considered himself lucky.

He was currently walking on an isolated sidewalk in the middle of some neighborhood. The houses of either side of him were boarded up with doors locked and shutters drawn. No one would be willing to take in another person, because that just meant one more mouth to feed. Not even the most kindhearted person would feed a stranger before themselves, not anymore, not in this crazy, fucked up world.

Patrick's stomach growled. He was running very low on crackers; one packet was not enough to last more than a couple days. Four was really stretching it. He needed to find another supply of food, or he would slowly and painfully starve to death.

He hoped that he would eventually stumble across a run down grocery store; although he was almost positive any store would be empty, torn up by those desperate enough to do so. But finding a grocery store gave him a purpose, a reason for randomly wandering in the streets. So he continued to search.

It wasn't long before he found a convenience store and a gas station snugly fitted next to the main road. The door was ripped off its hinges, and the windows smashed in.

Patrick shrugged and decided it wouldn't hurt to try searching the store, even though he immediately knew there was nothing to be found. He quickly crossed the deserted street and breathed in relief as the roof of the store immediately took away the sweltering heat of the shining sun.

He walked up and down the aisles aimlessly, knowing they were empty, as his stomach growled in complaint. The ground was dirty, and broken glass littered the floor everywhere. He sighed and ran a hand through his greasy hair. He was miserable.

Suddenly, Patrick heard a noise coming from the entrance of the store, opposite to where he was standing. His breath caught in his throat and his heart started pounding in his rib cage, almost painful. He slowly and silently crouched to the floor and groped around for a weapon, anything. He found a piece of glass and clutched it, senses alert. In his mind's eye he pictured a black masked figure coming to reunite him with his family, as if he were one loose end up tie up. Blinking rapidly to clear his mind, Patrick told himself that he was just being an idiot. But he still gripped the piece of glass so tightly that it cut into is palm.

The footsteps were getting closer, slowly. The person also seemed to be pacing through the aisles; what sounded like heavy boots dragged on the floor hopelessly.

They were getting closer, too close for Patrick's liking. His body tensed instinctively, his breathing quick and shallow with fear.

The person turned the corner just as Patrick jumped up in one fluid motion, pinning them to the empty aisle and pressing the glass to their throat.

The person let out a high pitched yelp, throwing his - it was definitely a guy - hands up in surrender. Patrick found himself two inches away from a pair of light golden-brown eyes, wide open in fear. He started to panic, unsure of what to do next. The two of them stared at each other for a second, then two. Neither moved, neither made a sound.

Finally, Patrick spoke. "Are you going to hurt me?" he asked, voice small.

"No! No, I swear," the guy said hastily.

Patrick nodded and stepped back, freeing his captive and giving him a once-over. He started to blush lightly. This guy was pretty cute, given the fact that they were in the middle of a fucking apocalypse. In better circumstances, he might even be considered very hot. Dark brown hair, tanned sink, and just a little taller than Patrick, who was generally very short. Realizing that he had been pressed up against this guy less that thirty seconds ago, he began to blush even harder.

The dude gave him a confused smile. "So what's your name?" he asked politely.

"Patrick," Patrick said, breaking eye contact.

"I'm Pete. What's your story? How did you end up here?"

Patrick began to tell his tale, choking up when he got to the part about finding his family dead. He stopped for a moment, trying to regain his composure in front of this kind stranger.

"Hey there," Pete murmured, placing a hesitant hand on Patrick's arm. Patrick leaned in, grateful for the first human contact in days.

Patrick continued his story, and a tear dropped down his face. He allowed himself to cry about his family for the first time since the incident happened. In the end, he was silently shaking and trying to hold back more tears as they dropped down his cheeks.

"Shh," Pete whispered. "You'll be ok, shh, don't cry, I've got you, I'm here."

"Sorry," Patrick said weakly, shivering a little and roughly wiping the tears from his cheeks. He scolded himself in his head. Just because his family was dead was no reason to pathetically sob in front of a stranger.

"Don't be." Pete's words were kind. "Listen," he continued after a second. "Do you want to come back to where I'm staying? Since you have no where to go."

Patrick looked up in surprise. He remembered his mother warning him about strangers when he was younger, but this was a very different situation. He had no where else to go, and if this boy was going to kill him, then that death would be better than slow and painful starvation. Patrick made up his mind and nodded. "If it's ok with you?"

"Yeah, and I'm sure Joe and Andy will be ok too."

"Joe and Andy...?" Patrick trailed off.

"I guess you could call them my roommates. In a way." Pete smiled. "I think they'll love you."

[•]

Patrick was grateful for the first company he he had in days. As they ducked around buildings, passed through alleyways, and even crawled through a large hole in a fence ("This is just a shortcut I swear," Pete had claimed), Pete joked around and made Patrick laugh until his sides hurt. He hadn't laughed that hard in weeks, probably months.

"...making me drop the box. The smiles were wiped off of their faces in half a second, and Joe nearly broke his leg trying to get over to me to help me pick all of it up because there was no way any of us were willing to lose a single crumb of that cereal. I kid you not, Andy, who I've told you is all macho and muscly, was on his hands and knees to look in the corners of the room to make sure we didn't miss any." Pete had been dramatically waving his arms around for emphasis throughout the story, and Patrick laughed. He was adorable.

"Andy and Joe seem amazing. How did you end up with those two out of everyone?"

"That story's not too long actually. We all lived in the same orphanage together before this all happened. We were pretty tight."

"An orphanage? Oh god, I'm so sorry," Patrick said quietly, feeling a twist in his gut as he remembered that he himself was now an orphan too.

"It's ok, it was a long time ago. I barely remember either of my parents." Pete glanced sideways at Patrick and gave him a half smile. Patrick hesitantly smiled back.

"But yeah, the three of us were tight. It only made sense to camp out together when this all went down. Found a run down storage shack in the middle of no where, that's now home I guess." Pete shrugged. "It's not bad. We're definitely better off than a lot of people."

Patrick nodded in agreement. "Hold on, how old are you?" he asked.

"Seventeen." Pete smirked. "I was so close to getting out of that hellhole of an orphanage. Andy's seventeen too, and Joe's sixteen. What about you?"

"I just turned sixteen actually." He smiled.

Pete grinned. "Perfect."

Patrick didn't know what that meant, but he didn't ask.

"Almost there 'Trick. You ready?"

Patrick nodded, blushing slightly at the nickname.

[•]

Pete secretly feared Andy and Joe's reactions, although he put up a brave face to ease Patrick's mind. But the three of them were already barely holding on with the limited food, and Patrick was probably going to be one mouth too many.

Pete didn't plan on inviting him home, but the way he pinned Pete to the aisle even though he was clearly terrified, his adorable blush after letting him up, the way he broke down when talking about his family. Pete really wasn't going to invite him home. But...

Patrick was like them; he was alone and had no where to go. Andy and Joe would be a little sympathetic, right?

He swallowed nervously.

"Here we are," he said to Patrick as his new home appeared in the distance.

[•]

As they had walked, the buildings had started spacing out until they were left on a road with plain fields with tall grasses that stretched as far as the mountains in the distance.

"Here we are," Pete had said, pointing towards a grey blob within the grass. Patrick squinted. He could barely make out the shape of a small shack.

"Uh, we're gonna have to walk through the grass. Just follow me and don't get lost," Pete said casually, before stepping into the tall fields. Patrick swallowed and followed, careful not to lose track of Pete's black and grey striped hoodie, which he managed to wear despite the intense heat.

"Just a few more feet!" Pete yelled after a minute. A couple seconds later, he stopped short, nearly causing Patrick to crash into him.

The grass grew significantly shorter in an abrupt clearing, and in the middle was a faded, run down shack that was probably used for storage at one point in time.

Pete scratched the back of his head and turned to face Patrick.

"It's not much, but I think I can say that it's better than what most people are stuck with," he said. Patrick nodded in agreement.

Pete took a visible deep breath and glanced behind him at the door of the shack. "Well, follow me I guess." He hesitated for another second before walking up to the door and turning the knob.

"Who's there!" someone yelled from inside.

"It's just me, Joe," Pete called casually, opening the door and walking in. He gestured for Patrick to follow.

"Dude, I told you to do that fuckin secret knock thing," the guy, Joe, whined. "I was about to prepare to kill you."

Pete, who was already a few steps into the shack, raised his eyebrows. "You're gonna have to move a little faster than that if you're gonna be killing people," he said, smirking. Following him inside and shutting the door behind him, Patrick saw someone with a dark curly afro laying on a makeshift bed on the floor of a single large room. Dim light streamed through the worn roof, but other than that it was dank and dusty.

At the sound of the door closing, the man - Joe - turned to face Patrick, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Pete," he said tightly after a second, eyes not leaving Patrick's. "What-"

He was cut off by another voice coming from a door that was opening on the opposite wall from where Pete and Patrick were standing.

"Hey Pete, I thought I heard you!" The man had a high, almost squeaky, voice, and Patrick did a double take when a short but extremely muscular man came into view. He started walking towards them but then stopped short when he saw Patrick.

"Pete? Who's that?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah Pete. Who's that?" Joe said sweetly.

At this point, and thin layer of sweat had covered Patrick's face, and his hands wouldn't stop trembling. He saw Pete swallow and grin nervously, and realized that despite all his bravado, Pete wasn't sure how his friends would react to Patrick. Patrick's heart started thudding in his chest.

"Everyone, this is Patrick. I, ah, found him? Or rather he found me," Pete chuckled nervously. "At the convenience store. Where I went. To go look for, uh, food."

Patrick shrank away from their piercing gazes.

"Hey, Pete, can we talk? Like, outside?" Joe asked.

"I mean, I guess so?"

For a second Patrick felt bad for Pete, before his thoughts returned to the fact that the short muscly guy, whom he figured was Andy, was still looking at him like he was a tough piece of meat.

Joe and Andy literally marched Pete out the back door, sending glances back at Patrick as they walked. As soon as the door closed, Patrick sank to the floor and took a deep shuddering breath, and forced back tears that he just realized were threatening to fall.

"I miss you, Mom," he whispered into the empty air.

[•]

Pete's heart was threatening to break out of his rib cage as Andy and Joe walked him out of the shack. As soon as the door shut, Joe and Andy turned to face Pete, the three of them standing in a triangle as they had done so many times before.

It was clear Joe was livid, the way he was being very polite and not making offhand comments about everything. With Andy, you could never tell how he was feeling because no matter what, he always had the same calm demeanor.

"Explain." Joe said.

Pete swallowed.

"His name's Patrick. He, uh, he pinned me to an aisle in the convenience store with a piece of glass that was already starting to cut his hand. I swear I wasn't going to invite him back! But then we talked a little -"

Joe groaned. Pete glared at him.

"We started talking and he also lost his family, guys! Recently, too. He's alone. Just like us. And he had no where to go. At least we ha each other, but he was alone." Pete felt a lump in his throat by the end of his ramble. "I know he's another mouth to feed, and I'll tell him to go if you guys insist on it, but please! He's alone."

"Pete, we are running out of food!" Joe said matter of factory. "Who knows how long before our store runs out? There is no more to get unless we start killing people like the gangs. Do you really want to do that?"

"But-" Pete started, tears pricking behind his eyes.

"Joe's right, Pete." Andy said. "Can we really afford to feed another person?"

" _Think_ , Pete." Joe said tiredly. "We don't have the resources. Why are you insisting on keeping him anyways? It's always just been the three of us. Why should we change it?"

Pete swallowed. He didn't have an answer, he honesty didn't know why he wanted Patrick to stay so badly.

"Please, guys." He looked between the stoic faces of his two best friends. "I'll do what I can, I'll travel farther in search for more food, I'll rip apart abandoned houses, fuck, I'll even start growing our own food. And we've been holding onto the seeds from our fresh produce that we had in the beginning, right? We can plant them, I'll learn how to, I'll find out how. But we can't let Patrick go. Please." Pete's voice cracked at the end.

Joe sighed and looked at Andy. They seemed to have a silent conversation with minimal hand gestures, leaving Pete waiting.

Finally, Joe looked back at Pete. "It's your job to feed him. We'll continue to split out food into thirds, and you have to sustain him by getting more food for him or sharing yours, I don't care."

Pete nodded vigorously.

Andy sighed. "You know we're usually not like this Pete," he said. "But these are not usual times."

"It's ok, I understand. I really do," Pete said breathlessly.

"Also, if you learn how to garden then we'll help grow the food of course," Joe put in.

Pete smiled.

Joe rolled his eyes. "You and your fucking heart. Stop falling for random guys on the street, please!" he moaned, but there was no anger behind his words anymore, just annoyed resignation.

Pete let out a breathe he didn't know he was holding, and grinned. "I haven't fallen for anyone, the fuck are you on about?" he asked, before giving his friend a hug.

"We'll be ok, seriously," he whispered before leaning away. Joe smiled and nodded.

"There's no compromising with you, is there?" Andy said simply. Pete smiled and hugged him too. "Thank you, guys. Seriously."

Joe rolled his eyes fondly. "Come on. Your Patrick is probably having a panic attack right now."

[•]

Patrick was going to have a panic attack. Their little "meeting" was taking way too long for his comfort. They were gonna kick him out, he knew it, they were just trying to break it gently to Pete. He couldn't get Joe's cold stare out of his mind, or Andy's smooth, expressionless face. He was going to die alone on the streets with no where to go and no one who cared about him.

Suddenly, the door opened, and he jumped to his feet in surprise, heartbeat going a hundred miles an hour. He tried to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable... but that was Pete rushing to him with a huge smile on his face. Patrick stopped, unsure of what was going on. Why would Pete be happy to see him gone?

Before he could answer that question, Pete was pulling him into a bone crushing hug and chanting the same thing over and over: "They're ok with you staying, you can stay, you can stay, you can stay."

"I... what?" Patrick asked, desperately trying to keep up with his surroundings.

"You can stay, Pattycakes!" Pete yelled as he released him from his embrace.

Patrick made a face. "Don't call me Pattycakes." Then, what Pete was saying suddenly dawned on him. "Did you say I can stay?"

Pete laughed and nodded.

Patrick started laughing too. He could see Joe and Andy grinning from the corner of his eye, but he didn't register it, instead he pulled Pete into another hug.

Suddenly, Patrick's stomach rumbled loudly. He suddenly remembered how ravenous he was. One packet of stale crackers in four days was hardly enough to sustain anyone.

Pete leaned away from the hug in surprise. "Be right back," he called, and walked to another corner of the room. Patrick watched in wonder as he pried open a plank of wood from the floor and pulled out a can.

"In case of gangs breaking in," Joe explained, noticing Patrick's awed expression.

Patrick could only mod.

[•]

"I can't believe you told them you'd fucking farm in order to convince them to let me stay," Patrick said, slightly out of breath.

"Well, I couldn't just let them keep you away from me!" Pete exclaimed.

Patrick smiled a blushed a bit. "That's probably the nicest thing anyone's done for me, honestly." He glanced sideways at Pete.

Pete's eyes widened a little bit. "I promise that's gonna change now that you're here."

Patrick turned very red. Pete noticed and grinned as his heart fluttered. Patrick had the cutest blush.

It was around 10 a.m., the day after Pete brought Patrick home. The two of them were walking under the bright sun to the nearest library to look for a guide to growing food. Patrick told him multiple times that it was probably already empty, but Pete insisted on checking it out themselves. ("Do you know how to grow food? I didn't think so. So we need a book. And the only place to get a book about growing food is the library," he had said. Patrick had no argument against that.)

"So tell me more about yourself," Pete hummed. "What did you like to do in your free time?"

"Music," Patrick said without hesitation. "Music was my thing. I was determined to learn and be able to play every instrument that existed. I played trumpet through my high school, and learned guitar and piano outside of that."

Pete's heart fluttered. He didn't think this boy could get any more perfect than he already was.

"That's amazing. What kind of stuff did you listen to?"

Patrick started listing off artist after artist, giving little comments here and there about certain albums or songs. It quickly turned into an argument about which Metallica album was the best.

"Ok, I am done with your opinion because it is clearly the wrong one," Patrick said.

"Excuse me? I think you're definitely in the wrong here. There is no way you actually think - hey, we're here!"

Sure enough, the small grey building of the library came into view. As they neared it, Pete saw the the door was unlocked and swinging on its hinges.

"Damn it," he groaned.

"Let's just look inside," Patrick said soothingly. "You never know."

They walked in. The door was broken down, but oddly enough, the library looked full.

"Ok this was not what I was expecting," Pete said. Patrick seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Guess no one cares about books at a time like this," Patrick murmured.

"Well, let's go." Pete grabbed Patrick's hand, partially as a joke, partially to see how he'd react. Just as expected, Patrick blushed furiously, and glanced up at Pete in surprise, who pretended not to notice and tugged him towards the nonfiction section.

As they walked along, they noticed that there were a lot of empty spots on the shelves. People had come here for sure, but not enough to have cleared a significant part of the library.

"So tell me, why have you been saving seeds but have never bothered to start planting them until now?" Patrick asked.

Pete considered for a second. "I have no idea," he finally said.

Patrick fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"We saved the seeds because Andy literally didn't let us throw anything away unless it was absolutely necessary. But why we didn't plant them... we just never felt the need to do so until now."

Patrick nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense," he amended.

They wandered up an down the aisles together, Patrick scanning the titles on the left, and Pete on the right. Whenever either of them found something interesting, they grabbed it and put it in a large bag to take home.

When they reached the section about music, Patrick went crazy.

"I need all of these," he said, voice pitching in excitement as he grabbed book after book from the shelf.

"Ok that's it, you're carrying the bag home," Pete said, groaning from the added weight as Patrick dropped in about ten thick books. It was a sturdy cloth bag that they hand brought from home, and Pete was grateful that they had remembered to bring it alone. There was no way he'd be able to carry all those books all the way home.

"I only grabbed a few," Patrick whined. "We are coming back here for sure. Please!" He looked up at Pete with wide grey-blue eyes, and Pete's stomach flipped. Fuck.

"Anything for you Trick," he said sweetly. Patrick grinned.

They eventually found their way over to the section about maintaining a food garden. Pete's heart surged as he realized... it was mostly full.

"God bless whoever came to get these and had the heart to leave some behind!" Patrick yelled into the empty building. Pete grinned and started laughing in relief. Patrick joined, and soon the two of them were hanging onto each other, out of breath.

[•]

"Here you go," Pete announced, dropping a stack of books on the pile of blankets that was Joe's bed. "And for you," he said, doing the same to Andy's.

"What's this?" Andy asked.

"Thought you'd need a way to pass time. If you run out we can grab more," Pete explained. "The library's pretty full."

"Hey, thanks man. Did you find what you came for?" Joe asked.

"Yup!" Patrick chirped, holding up the four gardening books they brought. Pete had wanted to bring more, but Patrick had insisted they leave some in case another poor soul needed them. They compromised to come back in a week and take more if necessary.

After shuffling through the books on their pile of blankets that was their bed, the four of them headed out to the backyard with the precious number of seeds cupped in Andy's steady hands. Following the instructions and tips from the four books, they planted the seeds in neat rows and watered as necessary. Unfortunately, there was no way to tell which seeds came from where, and all they could do was hope that that wouldn't affect the growing.

"I know a convenience store out in the middle of no where, maybe a two and a half hour walk east," Patrick told the group when they had gone back inside the house. "I remember driving by it on our way to some trip about six or so weeks ago. It's literally a gas station in the middle of no where, maybe we'll have more luck finding something there?" he asked hopefully.

"You and I can go check it out tomorrow," Pete suggested. Andy and Joe nodded in agreement.

"We were thinking about checking our luck in some empty houses south of here," Joe said.

After agreeing on the plans for tomorrow, Patrick excused himself to go watch their garden and get some fresh air. As much as he didn't mind Andy and Joe's company, he preferred to be alone at times.

Pete joined him outside after about ten minutes, and the two of them sat in silence. Patrick couldn't help by be hyperaware of Pete's every move, and his stomach somersaulted as Pete subconsciously inched closer.

"Looks like we're sharing dinner again tonight," Pete said conversationally after a while.

Patrick winced, guilt ripping through him. "You really don't have to, Pete. Another day won't harm."

Pete looked horrified at the notion.

[•]

It actually took them about three hours to get to the small store, the intense heat slowing them down, but it seemed like much less as easy conversation distracted both of them from the length of the walk.

"There it is!" Patrick said suddenly, pointing to a blurry grey building in the distance. "Almost there."

They continued to talk and joke, and Patrick learned a lot more about Pete and his childhood growing up in the orphanage.

"We broke as many rules as we possibly could without getting into serious trouble," Pete said, an easy smile taking up his face. "To the extent that the three of us even gave each other stick and poke tattoos with stolen materials. No one ever found out."

Patrick laughed. "That's amazing. The three of you sound like really good friends."

"That we are. As aggravating as they can be, they're like my brothers, and I love them with all my heart." As if suddenly realizing what he said, he turned so he was walking backwards in order to glare at Patrick. "Don't you dare tell them I said that."

Patrick jokingly drew an X over his heart. "I swear I won't," he said solemnly, earning a grin from Pete.

"What about you? What were your friends like?" Pete asked, voice careful. Patrick understood why; since Patrick was alone, it was a safe bet for Pete to assume that all his connections were dead or gone.

However, Patrick's case was different. He snorted humorlessly. "I didn't have any friends." He looked at Pete's surprised expression and continued. "I was always picked on at school. The short, fat, gay kid with the ugly hair and ugly glasses. No one wanted to be my friend."

Pete stopped short, shock evident on his face. "What kind of fuckin school did you go to, the school for blind assholes? You're fucking gorgeous, 'Trick!"

Patrick felt his face heat up, all the way to his ears. "I-" he spluttered.

But Pete wasn't done. "You are probably the single most beautiful human being I have ever laid eyes on, I am going to personally beat up whoever the fuck thought they had the right to make you feel like you're anything less than abso-fucking-lutely amazing." His face was started to become pink with anger.

"Pete!" Patrick said, putting a hand on the older boys shoulder, face so hot it might as well have been on fire. "It's ok now, really. And, I. Thank you."

"I know I'm right," Pete huffed, but calmed down slightly. "And if it makes you feel any better, I'm gay too," he added as an afterthought.

Patrick's heartbeat quickened at the new possibilities, but managed to hide it. However, thoughts of Pete pressed up against him ensured that his blush didn't leave his face for the rest of the walk.

[•]

Surprisingly, the doors of the convenience weren't torn down when they got there. Patrick's heart fluttered with hope. Pete opened the door and ushered Patrick inside. His heart sank once again as he saw row after row of empty shelves.

Pete nudged him with his elbow. "There's a door in the back," he said, pointing. Sure enough, a big white closed door was set into the back wall.

They walked over there quickly. Patrick jiggled the knob only to find it locked.

"Fear not, young Pete is here to save the day!" Pete crowed, pulling two wires from his front pocket and easily picking the lock.

Patrick watched in awe.

"Gotta learn the tricks of the trade, am I right?" Pete smirked. "I spent months learning how to pick locks back at the orphanage, and I would sneak food from the kitchen at night for the three of us. I was never caught," he said proudly.

Patrick was impressed but he would never admit it.

Pete swung the door open, and inside was a small room that was more of a random storage unit than anything. It was very dimly lit by the sun outside, with no windows whatsoever.

"Go left, I'll take right," Pete said. Patrick nodded and headed to the left side of the room. Praising himself for remembering to bring his flashlight, he turned it on and was disappointed to find nothing but old musty files and a few cleaning supplies. He shifted through the dusty papers, sneezing and rubbing his irritated eyes with his t-shirt as the dust particles rose up in defense.

Suddenly he heard a sharp intake of breath and and excited squeak. He turned around abruptly, accidentally shining his light in Pete's wide eyes.

"Ow! Put that thing away!" he screeched, but didn't sound angry at all.

"Sorry. Did you find something?"

"Hell yes I did." Pete shifted and pointed to where he cleared away a bunch of cleaning supplies. And there! There were bags of chips and unopened cans of drinks and packs of beef jerky and nuts and candy and dried fruit.

Patrick stood shocked for a second before shifting his gaze to Pete's face, who looked like he was looking a huge stack of birthday presents just for him. Suddenly, Pete jumped up and threw his arms around Patrick, giggling in his ear. Patrick blushed and smiled and squeezed Pete back.

It turned out that there wasn't as much food as Patrick originally thought as they pushed it all into the cloth bag. But still, it was something.

As soon as they dropped the last pack into the bag, Patrick heard the bell on the door jingle as the door opened. Both boys froze. Patrick had a clear view of the front door from where he was standing, and saw two figures walk in the door, chatting in low voices as they surveyed the empty aisles.

A blond boy with hair that reached his eyes, and an Indian girl with short jet black hair. They didn't look any older than Patrick, from what he could see.

And they each held a shotgun.

Patrick started trembling. He looked at Pete, who glanced back with fear in his eyes. Neither of them move an inch. The door to the back room was open wide enough to be very visible, and eventually the two people outside would notice it. Patrick's breathing started picking up, and soon he was hyperventilating.

Pete noticed, and turned Patrick around so they were looking at each other in the eye. Pete's hands were steady on Patrick's shaking shoulders. He took one hand and pressed his index finger to his lips, motioning to Patrick to stay quiet.

Patrick nodded and took deep, silent breathes to calm himself down. He focused on Pete's steady brown eyes, flecked with gold here and there. His breathing evened.

We're gonna be ok, Pete mouthed.

Patrick nodded.

I'm gonna get you out of here.

Patrick nodded again.

Patrick turned his attention back to the figures. The girl looked up at the door.

"Hey!" she said, catching the boy's attention immediately. She pointed to the door.

The boy frowned. "It's open. It's probably empty."

"Ok, but let's go look anyways," the girl replied.

Patrick's heart clenched in fear. He took a few steps back instinctively, thankful that his shoes didn't squeak on the tile floor. He reached for Pete's hand, but accidentally knocked a spray bottle off a shelf instead. Time seemed to slow down, and Patrick reached out and caught it before it hit the ground, all the while managing not to make a sound. He returned it to the shelf and looked up at Pete, tears in his eyes. Pete grabbed his hand reassuringly. Patrick squeezed hard.

The girls footsteps were growing nearer, the guy right behind her. Pete caught Patrick's eye again and made a series of hand gestures that said "I'll take down the guy, you get the girl. Ok?"

Patrick swallowed, nodded, and squeezed Pete's hand one more time.

The footsteps were approaching rapidly. Patrick had a brief feeling of deja vu, remembering a similar situation that led up to him jumping Pete with a piece of glass pressed to his throat.

As soon as they were close enough, Pete and Patrick burst out of the supply room, causing the other two kids to scream loudly. Patrick used the girl's hesitation to tackle her to the ground. He heard a gunshot and yelped in fear, briefly worrying for Pete's safety before the job at hand grabbed his attention again. He struggled to get the gun out of the girl's hand while keeping her pinned to the floor at the same time, but that proved harder to do than anticipated.

The two of them roll over and over in their struggle, shifting and moving across the floor. Patrick tries to grab her wrists, but she head butted him in return, which he barely dodged. Somehow she managed to get a foot under him and kick him in the thigh, but he just grunted and elbowed her in the stomach in return. Years of taking beatings in high school had increased his pain tolerance level.

Suddenly, the girl threw her entire weight to the right, catching Patrick by surprise and flipping them over so that she was on top of him. Then there was a hand at his throat, choking him. He scrabbled with both hands at hers, clawing and trying to loosen her grip, but it didn't work. Her other hand lifted the gun and pointed the muzzle to the center of his forehead.

His eyes widened as he stared down the gun, still trying to free his throat from her death grip.

" _PETE_!" he screamed, hoping and praying that some sound would come out and that Pete would be able to hear it. He became very aware that Pete was no where near him, and that he couldn't even hear him.

He couldn't breathe anymore. The edges of his vision were becoming fuzzy and grey.

However, the girl seemed very hesitant to pull the trigger. She looked as if she was arguing with herself, and building up the courage to shoot him.

"PETE! PETEPETEPETE!" he yelled, and then he was out of breath. "Pete," he whispered, a sob ripping from his exhausted throat. Tears welled in his eyes. The girl finally looked as if she had steeled herself to just do it, but then there was a loud gunshot and the weight of her body was released off of Patrick, the grip around his neck loosening.

He gasped for air for a couple seconds before struggling into a sitting position. The girl was slumped to the side, blood leaking from a hole in her back. And above them both stood Pete, a gun in his hand, aimed at the place the girl sat a few seconds ago.

Then the gun fell out of his hand and clattered to the floor.

"Patrick!" he yelled, and suddenly he was there in front of him, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Pete," Patrick sobbed. "I thought I was going to die, I thought that was it, I thought it was over."

Pete moved so that he was facing Patrick, cupping his cheeks I'm both hands. Then, without warning, he leaned in and his lips were on Patrick's.

Patrick froze, brain struggling to catch up with reality. Pete started to pull away, second guessing himself, but then Patrick sprang into action. He reached a hand around the back of Pete's neck and pulled him in, smashing their mouths together. Pete gasped but pulled himself impossibly close to Patrick given their current positions sitting on the floor, and kissed back with a fever unlike anything Patrick had experienced.

Patrick's mind went blank and the only thing he could feel was Pete's lips on his, and the only thing he could think was _PetePetePetePetePetePetePetePete_.

Pete's lips were soft but rough at the same time, and they kissed with a desperation that threatened to set the building on fire. Suddenly, Pete pushed his tongue into Patrick's mouth, and Patrick let him without hesitation. He explored around Patrick's mouth and Patrick moaned and grabbed a fistful of Pete's hair to keep him anchored.

 _First kiss_ , Patrick thought, and suddenly his heart rate went up and he kissed Pete even harder than before.

Patrick never imagined himself to be the type of person who kissed someone within two days of meeting them, but these were very desperate times.

Finally, Patrick pulled away when he started to feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. Pete was also breathless, and his beautiful brown eyes were filled with fireworks, almost literally. They rested their foreheads together.

They stayed like that for a minute before Pete softly murmured, "The food."

Patrick made a small noise of agreement, reluctantly moving away to stand up. His neck was very sore, and probably badly bruised, but he had a hard time paying attention to it at the moment.

When they're both up, Pete looked down at the body of the girl on the floor. A visible shudder goes through him.

"I killed her," he said quietly, sounding strangled.

"You saved me," Patrick corrected.

Pete closed his eyes for a second before reaching down to pick up the gun he had previously dropped. He quickly put the safety on and handed it to Patrick.

"Hold onto this, please." His voice was pleading. "I don't- I can't- please." Patrick nodded in understanding and took the gun. He grapes the one that fell out of the Indian girl's hand as well, putting the safety on the same way Pete did. He wondered for a brief second how Pete knew so much about guns.

Pete grabbed the bag of food from the supply room and headed out the door. Patrick followed. On their way out, Patrick saw the body of the blond boy laying on the ground, facing the ceiling, limbs sprawled. To his relief, he was breathing, chest rising and falling softly. There was a trickle of blood running down the side of his forehead, but that was the only obvious sign of injury.

Patrick quickly felt a pang in his gut for he poor blond kid. He would wake up only to realize his friend was dead, and then he too would be alone in this big, broken world. He forced the thought out of his head. There was nothing they could do about it now.

Pete was silent on the entire walk home, but he held Patrick's hand with a grip so tight it was like his life depended on it, and refused to let go. Patrick rubbed small circles on his hand with his thumb.

[•]

As soon as they got him, Pete dropped the bag on the floor, grabbed a blanket from his bed, and curled up into a small ball in the corner of the room, resting his chin on his knees and staring off into the distance.

Patrick sighed and dropped the two guns onto the floor next to the bag. Joe and Andy still weren't home. He went over to Pete and sat next to him. Cautiously, he pulled Pete's head into his lap and started stroking his hair. Pete didn't say a word, but leaned into Patrick touch, a silent tear sunning down his face. Patrick wiped it away with his thumb and whispered soothing words.

Soon Pete was shaking with sobs as tears streamed down his face. Patrick kissed the top of his head and stayed in that position, lips pressed to Pete's greasy hair.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Joe and Andy walked in, chattering happily. They froze when they saw Pete and Patrick.

"What happened?" Joe asked, concern filling his loud voice. Pete flinched and got up from Patrick's lap, choosing to lean against the wall instead. He didn't look up as Patrick stood up to explain the situation to Andy and Joe.

Joe glanced down at the guns of the floor and flinched.

Patrick pulled them to the far side of the room and quickly explained what happened at the convenience store, leaving out the part about their brief make out session.

"Shit, man," Joe said, accurately summing up the entire day in two words.

"I'll go talk to Pete. Thanks, Patrick," Andy said, calm and steady as always. Patrick just nodded.

He wanted Andy cross the room and sit down next to Pete. He nudged him with his elbow and smiled as Pete glanced over before launching into a narrative about the book he was reading, thanking him for picking it up for him. Pete gave him a wobbly smile in return.

Joe looked shocked. "I don't think I've ever heard Andy say that many words in his entire life combined," he said. Patrick snorted.

That night, Patrick crawled into his pile of blankets next to Pete. He intertwined his hand with Pete's and squeezed once before drifting off to sleep.

[•]

_The sound of the gunshot is loud in Pete's ears. He's watching himself from the outside, as if a movie was playing. The Pete he sees is standing, tall and strong, a gun expertly poised in his hand. He looks terrifying, face and clothes smeared with dirt, eyebrows drawn together in fury, a scowl on his face._

_The girl's back is to him, she has no idea what's happening behind her. Suddenly, she falls to the side, and Pete watches as Patrick gets up off the ground and hugs dream-Pete._

_"I killed her," dream-Pete says._

_"You saved me," Patrick says. Beautiful, sweet Patrick. Suddenly, Pete finds himself in dream-Pete's position, staring down into Patrick's eyes._

_"You saved me. You saved me. You saved me. You saved me." Patrick repeats, but suddenly his face is changing, shifting. And now Pete's staring down at the face of the Indian girl, her sweet round face twisting in pain as she screams "YOU KILLED ME! YOU KILLED ME! YOU KILLED ME!"_

_And then the blond boy is next to her, yelling and sobbing. "YOU KILLED HER! YOU KILLED MY BEST FRIEND!" Then he's holding a gun to Patrick's head and grins maliciously, pain in his eyes. "See how you like it," he growls. Patrick starts to scream for Pete to help him, the girl is still screaming "YOU KILLED ME!" and Pete is frozen in place, unable to breathe..._

"Pete! Pete, wake up, please!"

Pete realized that it wasn't dream-Patrick who was speaking now.

"Pete, come on, get up please wake up," a frantic voice whispered.

Pete snapped his eyes open and gulped for breath. Patrick was sitting over him, shaking him hard, a tear rolling down his cheek. He heard a relieved gasp as his eyes met Patrick's.

"Oh god, Pete," Patrick said, leaning down and hugging Pete as much as he could in their current positions. "I was shaking you for five minutes, God knows how long you were screaming before I woke up."

Pete reached up to touch his face, choking as he tried to speak. Then he realized that his throat felt raw and that there were fresh tears on his face.

"Come here," Patrick said, pulling Pete up into a sitting position and holding him close to his chest. Pete's body shuddered with another sob.

"Shh, I'm right here, I've got you," Patrick soothed. "It's ok, I'm here, you're ok." They stayed there for several long minutes as Pete cried silently into his shoulder, the dream still vivid in his memory.

When he was out of tears, he sat there and shivered slightly as Patrick rubbed his palm in circles on his back.

"Do you want me to get some water?" Patrick asked quietly.

Pete vigorously shook his head. As nice as some water sounded, he didn't want Patrick to leave him just yet.

"Don't leave," he said hoarsely. "Please."

"Hey," Patrick said, leaning back and looking him in the eye. "I'm right here." He hesitated, and then kissed him gently.

Pete kissed back with a fire, suddenly desperate to be as close to Patrick as humanely possible. He pulled the younger boy down on him as he laid down, not breaking the kiss once. Patrick made a noise of surprise as Pete clawed at his clothed back.

_Pete hears a loud BANG as the metal of a gun vibrates in his hands._

In a single, fluid motion, Pete flipped the two of them over, causing Patrick to gasp loudly and dig his hands into Pete's shoulders as he regained his surroundings. Pete rested his elbows on either side of Patrick, stoking his bare arms above the elbow. Patrick dug his hands into Pete's hair, pulling at it but at the same time pulling Pete closer.

Pete suddenly shoved his hands under Patrick's shirt, raking his fingers across smooth skin, shifting his weight so he was resting on his knees, straddling the younger boy. Patrick froze for a second and inhaled sharply.

_The dark haired girl is rigid for just a second._

Without thinking, Pete groped at the hem of Patrick's jeans, attempting to shove a hand underneath. He could feel a hard on inside, pressing up against his own.

"Pete, wait," Patrick gasped, with some difficulty. His face was red and already covered with a sheen of sweat. "I've never done this before, I, I don't know-"

"Shh, baby trust me," Pete soothed. "I won't go too far, and the second you tell me to stop, I will, ok?"

Patrick nodded, mouth parted slightly.

_The girl slumps over, her own gun falling out of her hand and landing on the floor._

Pete unbuttoned Patrick's jeans and shoved them down to his calves, leaving them both in their boxers, since Pete never bothered to sleep with pants on. He took a moment to admire the pale, soft, porcelain skin of Patrick's thighs. He glanced up at Patrick's red face, kissed him lightly, and then leaned down to bite the inside of his left thigh, leaving a dark mark on the untouched skin. Patrick squirmed underneath him, obviously biting back sound.

In a quick motion, Pete rid himself of his shirt.

Patrick moaned quietly when he saw Pete's bare chest. His eyes traveled down to his stomach, and Pete growled in pleasure at the sight of Patrick's expression. His eyes were so full of lust, and Pete wanted to claim him as his own.

_Pete's own gun falls from his hand, and for a second all he can do it stare at the girls back, the faded black shirt marked by a single hole._

Patrick reached up with shaking fingers to trace a shape just below Pete's navel. Pete knew that there was a single tattoo, right under his belly button, a bat with a heart in the center, half of the heart a skull. He remembered the time he, Andy and Joe sat in the dark of their bedroom with a flashlight, a bag of ice, a stolen needle, and a broken pen, giving each other stick and poke tattoos, strictly against every rule of the orphanage.

Patrick reached up with one hand and snaked it around Pete's neck, bringing their mouths together again, one hand still on the tattoo. He bit at Pete's lower lip, earning a quiet whine from Pete. When they pulled apart again, the look on Patrick's face was pure sin.

_The shirt around the hole is starting to soak through with blood, turning it a very dark black._

Pete tugged at Patrick's shirt, needing to see more of the beautiful skin. Patrick hesitated, insecurity flashing in his eyes. Pete leaned down and bit his earlobe, whispering the word beautiful as he passed by his ear. Patrick gave in and let Pete remove the shirt.

Pete looks down at the smooth skin below him. Patrick was beautiful. Pete had the sudden urge to mark his territory. He bit his collar bone, licking and sucking, and leaving a satisfying mark that clearly read mine. Patrick let out a low cry.

_The dark stain spreads quickly, faster than Pete would've thought, way too fast for the slow motion version of reality Pete was experiencing at that moment._

Pete captured Patrick's lips in his own again, and aggressively shoved a hand down Patrick boxers. He reached for the base of his dick and pulled up in one swift motion. Patrick gasped for air in between kisses, trembling helplessly underneath Pete. He reminded himself that this was the younger boy's first time, and that he had to be gentle.

Pete removed his hand from Patrick's boxers, causing him to squirm at the lack of touch. He quickly shoved both their underwear down as far as they'd go, leaving them both nearly naked, raging hard ons hanging dangerously close to each other but not quite touching. In a split second decision out of pure lust, Pete grabbed both of them in one hand and jerked them up together, kissing Patrick hard to muffle his crescendoing moans.

_Even the floor was started to turn red as an impossible amount of blood leaked from the wound._

Pete started moving his hands up and down more quickly, with more desperation, the two of them gasping into each other's mouths between flurried kisses. Pete's entire body is shot through with electrical currents, his nerves more sensitive than ever. Patrick reached a hand on Pete's back and ran his fingers up and down, and Pete almost melted.

"Pete," Patrick whispered hoarsely. "So...close...."

"Come for me, baby," Pete crooned, and that's all it took for Patrick to shoot all over Pete's hand and both of their chests. His back arched as he came, and his perfect mouth opened in a perfect circle, moaning "Peeeeeeete!"

_The girl hadn't even made a sound of pain or surprise. She had just died, like that, quick and easy. At Pete's hand. Her blood is on Pete's hands._

In two more quick strokes, Pete came as well, breathing hard into Patrick collar bone, panting his name over and over. "Patrick, oh god, Patrick."

After a minute, he relaxed and rolled over so he was laying next to Patrick, who was gazing at the ceiling, still overcome by his orgasm.

Pete grabbed his discarded shirt and cleaned both of their chests. Patrick's eyes drew together in concern, but Pete waved off the unanswered question.

"Don't worry, I'll wash it tomorrow," he said. Patrick nodded, and closed his eyes in content.

"Come here," Pete said once he had relaxed on the ground again, and Patrick scooted closer so he was enveloped in Pete's arms. As Patrick quickly drifted off to sleep, Pete pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Pete didn't sleep for a long time. Guilt so strong that it felt like it would make him explode kept him awake. Guilt for killing the girl, guilt for what he had just done to Patrick. Pete felt like he had used Patrick as a distraction. Patrick didn't know that, and Pete vowed he never would, but it nagged his conscious.

Pete wasn't usually like this. He tried not to fuck someone two days after they had met if he was interested in a longer relationship, but the times were desperate ones, and he was in desperate need of a distraction before the replay of that afternoon drove him insane. He scolded himself and silently hated himself and promised himself he'd never use Patrick, small, beautiful, innocent Patrick like he did today. They would only do things because they both wanted it, not because Pete was suffering.

Trying and failing to shake off the gross feeling inside him, Pete snuggled closer to Patrick's warm frame and closed his eyes.

[•]

"Jesus, you guys, you met two days ago."

Patrick rolled over at the sound of Joe's voice, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Pete was snoring away next to him.

"What's happening," Patrick grumbled, sitting up and trying to assess his surroundings. Joe was standing over him and Pete, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

"Why are you asking me? I should be asking you." He tapped his foot on the ground, waiting for an explanation. Patrick suddenly realized he was shirtless, and groped around until he found the missing piece of clothing and pulled it over his head, blushing hard. It was one thing to let Pete see his bare chest at night, and quite another for Joe to see it in broad daylight.

"Stop harassing my Patrick," Pete mumbled, eyes still closed. He rolled over and snuggled into the side of Patrick's leg. "Asshole," he added as an afterthought.

Joe snorted. "Get up, Pete. Time to start a new day."

"'M tired," Pete complained.

"No fucking way. You and Patrick here have been up all night fucking from the looks of it," he teased.

"Who's been fucking!" Andy shouted, walking into the room from the back door at that moment. Patrick briefly wished the floor would open up and let him fall to hell.

"Nightmares," Pete mumbled, breath tickling Patrick's leg.

Joe's expression softened. "Sorry, man."

"'S ok," Pete hummed. "'Trick woke me up." He considered for a second. "Then, yes, we fucked."

Patrick's face heated up. "Pete!" he squeaked.

Joe smirked triumphantly.

[•]

Patrick's favorite pastime when sitting around at the house was reading outside, next to their little garden, head in Pete's lap. Some of the plants had started to sprout a little, small green tendrils poking out of the earth here and there. He and Pete could sit there for hours on a decent day, each reading separate books but enjoying each other's company.

Pete refused to go on any food missions anymore. No one argued with him. He still had nightmares at night. That previous night, Patrick woke up to find Andy already with Pete, holding him close. Patrick had sat up and scooted over to them, smiling tightly at Andy, kissing Pete's ear, and holding his hand until he had calmed down.

Another new recent development was Joe and Andy constantly complaining about headaches and limb aches and stomach aches for the last couple days. They assumed it was physical strain, or maybe some bad food, and decided to wait it out a little.

Pete and Patrick were currently sitting on the grass next to the little garden, Pete's head in Patrick's lap for a change, reading their books. Patrick glanced down at his tranquil face and leaned down to kiss him softly on the lips. Pete sighed in content.

"I wish I could stay here forever," he whispered. Patrick made a small sound of agreement. This was more than perfect. A soft breeze erased the sweltering heat, Pete's hair was soft, and Patrick's book was very good. For the first time in a long time, Patrick was happy.

"Well that's too bad, because tomorrow you and I are going back to the library. I'm on my last book," Patrick said matter of factly.

Pete laughed, quick and joyful. "Sure thing, Pattycakes." Patrick wrinkled his nose, but leaned down to kiss Pete again.

[•]

The next day, however, Andy and Joe fell sick. It was only three days after the convenience store incident.

Pete woke up early, the sun barely creeping through the loose planks of wood that made up their roof. He sat up and glanced around, after a brief struggle with Patrick's limbs, looking around to see what woke him. He saw a brief movement in Andy's bed. Quietly, he got up and crept over to his friend.

His face was tight and drawn in his sleep, and he fidgeted like he was having a nightmare. Sweat made his skin shine.

Pete reached for his bare shoulder to wake him, and recoiled his hand as it touched Andy's skin. Andy's burning hot skin.

Pete's heartbeat picked up. Everywhere he touched, the skin burned with fever.

"Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck, no," he whispered frantically. He crawled around Andy to wake Joe and ask for help, but realized that Joe was also sweating badly.

A lump was quickly forming in his throat. Stomach twisting, he reached out to touch Joe's cheek.

He felt the heat before his finger was even on his friend's face. He jumped back, backing away from his two best friends, shaking and unable to breathe. Panic rose up in his chest.

"Pete?" a voice called. Patrick's. "Pete, what's wrong?" Pete didn't turn to face him, unable to move his eyes from the sleeping forms of his friends. He just shook his head violently and muttered "Nononononononono..."

Patrick was on his feet in a second. He grabbed Pete's shoulders and spun him around, face fearful when he saw Pete's expression.

"Pete!" he exclaimed, worry evident in his voice.

Suddenly, a low moan came from across the room, from Joe. Both boys turned to look, and Pete stumbled backwards, almost falling. Patrick's eyebrows drew together in concern.

Pete watched as he walked towards Joe and gently place a hand on his forehead. Pete watched as he drew his hand back quickly, face shocked. Pete watched as he did the same to Andy. And then Pete could no longer watch. He turned on his heel and sprinted out the back door.

He didn't run very far, just far enough so that he couldn't see the shack that had become the closest thing to a home in his life.

He knew he should go back, he knew he had to help Patrick. But...

A sob tore at his chest.

His two best friends in the entire world, his brothers, his favorite people. There was no recovering from a fever that high in a world like this one. There wasn't enough food, they weren't strong enough to fight back. They were going to die.

"FUCK!" he screamed into the open, empty fields. "Not Joe and Andy not them anyone but them not my best friends why them why me why why WHY!"

He sank to the ground, shaking and sobbing, but there was no one around to hear him.

[•]

Patrick didn't follow Pete out, as much as he wanted to. His heart clenched as he stared down and Andy's scrunched up face. Pete was going to take this really hard.

Patrick swallowed down the lump in his throat. Now was not the time to cry. He had to get busy.

He quickly ripped two strips of cloth from his shirt, and gathered up a water bottle and an empty can. He poured the water into the can, and soaked the two pieces of cloth in it before lifting them up and placing them on the boys' heads. Every few minutes, he dipped the cloth again, wishing he had ice to cool the water. In between replacing the cloth, he started preparing some food, putting together more than their usual portions and wincing as he noticed how short their food supply was getting. He didn't think it would last more than a week, but he forced the thoughts aside.

Pete reentered the house about an hour later, face a stone mask, and tear tracks on his cheeks. Patrick was sitting between Andy and Joe, changing their cloths. He stood as Pete walked in and quickly wrapped him in an embrace.

Andy woke up first.

"Pete?" he asked weakly, voice blurry.

"Andy, oh my god Andy, I'm right here," Pete said, gripping his hand with both of his.

"I....hurt...everywhere," Andy managed.

"I'm sorry," Pete choked. "You're gonna be ok, I'm here, shh, you'll be ok."

Andy hummed.

"Are you hungry?" Pete asked.

"Mmhm," he said. Patrick passed Pete a can of soup.

"Try to make him eat it all," Patrick said. Pete nodded.

Joe is up soon after.

"I got him, stay with Andy," Patrick murmured to Pete. Pete swallowed hard.

"Fu..ck," Joe breathed.

"I know. You're gonna be ok, we're gonna take care of you," Patrick soothed. "Do you want something to eat?"

Joe nodded, and winced. "I can't...move.... hurts."

Patrick helped him into a sitting position, leaving him panting. Then he started feeding him the lukewarm soup, replacing the cloth on his forehead every once in a while.

[•]

Pete didn't sleep that night. Neither him nor Patrick had left Andy and Joe's side all day, feeding them, reading to them, and changing their wet cloths on their foreheads every few minutes. But their fever didn't go down all day. If anything, it went up.

"I don't know what it is," Patrick had muttered to himself earlier. "Must've had something to do with them complaining about being in pain for the last two days."

Pete wasn't sure if he was supposed to overhear or not, but Patrick's words had brought a fresh wave of anxiety to his chest.

The smaller boy had fallen asleep hours ago, exhaustion claiming him. Pete laid there with his eyes wide open, breathing in the scent of Patrick's dirty hair, mind and heart racing.

Random memories were coming back to him slowly, popping into his mind now and then. When he and Joe got caught stealing a piece of cake from another kid's plate, and got a beating for it. When he confessed his sexuality to Andy at three in the morning after Joe had passed out from exhaustion, because he was twelve and terrified and Andy had a weird calming effect on everyone. When he finally told Joe too, and he was just annoyed that Pete hadn't told him right away. When some older kids had cornered him and were bullying him, and Andy had found him and punched one of them square in the nose. When the three of them snuck board games into their room and played them until four am, practically falling asleep on their feet the next day but not regretting a single moment. When they were there to comfort each other every time a family didn't adopt them. When all the shit with the sun went down and all they had to do was exchange a single glance before they knew what do to.

The memories wouldn't stop coming. Pete shook with sobs all night long.

[•]

Joe refused to eat the next day. Whatever they managed to shove down his throat ended up vomited onto the blankets next to him. Tears stream down his face all day.

"P..Pete, pl-please, it hurts, hurts so much," he gasped out. "Everything, hurts." He choked a little bit, and more tears leaked out.

Pete was broken. All he could do was hold Joe's hand and cry.

Andy slept through most of the day. Patrick made sure to keep switching his wet cloth on his forehead, but he wasn't sure if he should wake him up to feed him. He decided against it, since sleep was an important part of fighting off any disease.

Joe finally fell asleep around noon. He had been us since six a.m.

Patrick immediately walked over to Pete, allowing him to rest his entire body weight on him. Pete's frame shuddered with dry sobs. Patrick stroked his hair.

"When was the last time you ate something?" Patrick murmured, kissing his hair. Pete shrugged.

"Come on," Patrick said, pulling Pete up. They walked to their food store. There were only about five days' worth of food left, if they continued on their current portions. Wordlessly, Patrick grabbed a can of pineapple and a pack of beef jerky. The two of them sat there and shared the measly meal in silence.

As soon as they had finished eating, they heard a small noise come from Andy. Both of them jumped up at once and rushed over to him.

"Hey Andy," Pete whispered, grabbing his hand. Patrick replaced the cloth, wincing at how hot his forehead was.

"Pete," Andy breathed.

"How do you feel?"

Andy glared at Pete. "Shit."

Patrick choked back a small laugh. Pete smiled weakly.

Andy managed to down some food, but refused more after eating about half his usual portion.

Andy's body is stronger than Joe's, Patrick noted, swallowing.

Despite his increased fever, Andy seemed to be well enough to joke around with Pete. However, Pete quickly ended their game when Andy started gasping in pain with each giggle. He began reading to him instead, Andy intently focused.

Joe woke up four hours later, coughing and choking, waking Patrick from the brief nap he decided to take. Both him and Pete were at Joe's side in an instant, and Andy was left craning his head to see what was happening.

Joe's eyes were wide and frantic, and he seemed to be struggling for breath. Pete grabbed his hand, and Joe seemed to relax a little.

"Pete..." he wheezed. "You and Andy... you'll always....be.... in my heart. You.....guys... always were......and you.....still are.....and you.......always will......be."

"No, no Joe, what're you saying? It's gonna be ok, it will be, just hold on, you'll-" Pete's frantic voice was cut short by violent coughing.

Joe's eyes fluttered. He coughed once, violently, and a trickle of blood leaked out of his mouth. "You're....my best friends. I'm so.....fucking happy. To have....you there with.......me. All..my life. I love you guys." He smiled feebly. "Assholes."

Tears were rolling down Pete's cheeks, and he smiled back. "I love you too, Joe."

Joe looked content. He closed his eyes.

His chest rose and fell once, twice. And then he didn't move.

Pete looked up, and the anguish in his eyes made Patrick's heart clench tightly. Patrick reached up and touched his cheek, and was surprised to find it wet. He didn't remember crying.

"Fuck."

Andy.

Pete turned around to face him.

"Joe?" asked Andy, features twisted.

Pete closed his eyes and shook his head, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

Andy swallowed, eyes brimming with tears. Pete took his hand in his own. The two of them were silent, crying.

Patrick left them to grieve together, going out the back door. He sat next to the garden, as he had done many times before, and gazed out into the distance. He stared at the little green plants sticking out of the soil, but didn't really see them. Tears blurred his vision, and soon he couldn't see anything.

Suddenly, Patrick was angry. No one deserved to be forced to watch their two best friends die, knowing that there was nothing to do to save them. No one should be put through that kind of cruelty. Patrick gritted his teeth and punched the hard ground, only managing to hurt himself. He curled into a ball against the wall, shaking.

[•]

Pete didn't sleep again. He and Andy had spent the whole day holding each other and sobbing. They talked about Joe, relieving memories from their childhood, occasionally laughing through their tears. Eventually, Andy had fallen asleep, and Pete realized that Patrick was no longer in the house. He felt a twang of guilt that he didn't notice him leave.

Pete found him curled up in a fetal position near the garden. He pulled him into his side protectively, and the two of them watched the sun set until it was too cold to stay outside.

Once again, Patrick fell asleep relatively quickly, and once again, Pete was left staring into the darkness, alone.

He might've slept for a couple hours, on and off, but he really didn't remember the next morning.

As soon as he became fully conscious, Pete untangled himself from Patrick and immediately checked on Andy. He avoided looking at the lump on the makeshift bed that was actually Joe's body under a blanket. No one in the house had the means or energy to properly bury the body, so they just covered him respectfully. It hurt Pete's head to think about it.

Andy was still asleep. Pete touched his head and swallowed a lump in his throat when it turned out to be hotter than he thought was humanely possible. He couldn't lose both of his friends two days in a row. He couldn't, he wouldn't be able to handle it.

Patrick woke up soon after, and came to sit next to Pete, wrapping an arm around him. Pete pressed a kiss to the side of his head. He had never been more grateful for Patrick than he was that that moment. If he had been alone, he doubted he would've survived.

Andy woke up gasping and panting. He struggled to breathe as coughs racked his body. Pete suddenly noticed that Andy had thinned dramatically in the last three days; what used to be a strong, muscular body was now weak and frail.

"Andy, Andy, can you hear me? Please," Pete begged, grabbing his friend's hands.

"P..ete," Andy whispered.

"Food, I'll get food," Patrick said, making a move to get up.

"No!" Andy insisted. "No food, please. My stomach, ah!" He stopped short with a yelp as another cough hit him. "My stomach hurts so much. No food."

"Ok no food," Pete said, desperation filling his entire being.

"Talk to me, please," Andy rasped.

Pete launched into a random narrative, something from their childhood. When that story ended, he started talking about the day he met Patrick.

"I never did tell you the details, did I?" he asked, before retelling their fated meeting.

As he spoke, he could see Patrick blush and roll his eyes accordingly from the corner of his eye.

He was cut short by Andy grabbing his hand.

"Pete," he rasped. "Thank you. For everything. For my life."

"No! No Andy I can't lose you too please, not yet not ever please stay with me," Pete sobbed. He felt his heart ripping in two for the second time in less than 24 hours. "I can't lose you too."

"I'm sorry. You have been....such a good friend. Thank you." Andy smiled at Pete before closing his eyes and taking his last breath.

"No," Pete whispered. "Thank you." He squeezed Andy's hand one more time before letting it fall limply to the ground.

He was out of tears. He had cried more in the last week than his entire life combined. He was emotionally and physically exhausted, and he was so so tired of living. Living was too hard with no one left in the world.

Pete felt a pair of arms draw him in and hug him tight. Not no one. Pete still had Patrick.

He heaved a sob and buried his face into Patrick's shoulder. They sat there for what felt like eternity, Pete shaking and shivering, and a crying Patrick holding him steady, his anchor.

[•]

Patrick swallowed as he looked at their food supply the next morning. There was only about three days worth of food left, four or five if they stretched it. If Pete had harbored any desire to go look for more before Andy and Joe got sick, he no longer did for sure.

Patrick stepped out into the back yard, and made a small sound of despair. Their pathetic "garden" was dying in he heat, especially since no one had watered it in the last few days.

He went back inside and noticed Pete sitting up in the bed. Quickly, he walked over and sat next to him, pulling his head into his chest and kissing the top of his head. Neither of them made a sound. There was nothing to say.

Patrick decided to hold off on telling Pete about their diminishing food supply.

They spend the day in a similar fashion, Pete barely saying a word, but allowing Patrick to bring him food and read him books and tell him stories. Patrick learned that Pete liked the stories, so he told him random things from his life growing up, about his siblings, about his music, about his few half-friends. When Pete smiled, Patrick gave himself ten imaginary points.

That night, Pete called into the empty air "Are you still up, 'Trick?"

"Yeah," Patrick said softly. Pete sat up and shifted so that he was straddling Patrick. He leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, the nose, both cheeks, and finally the mouth.

Patrick opened his mouth easily into the kiss and pushed his tongue in, licking at Pete's teeth, earning a moan in return. He wrapped a hand through Pete's hair and pulled, shoving the other under his shirt.

They made out lazily for a few minutes before Pete began pulling at the hem of Patrick's shirt. This time, Patrick didn't even hesitate to help Pete take it off.

His face flushed at the look on Pete's face as he scoured his eyes up and down Patrick's bare chest. He looked.... almost hungry.

Pete looked Patrick in the eye for a second, his gaze full or pure lust, before licking a stripe from Patrick's belly button to between his nipples, tongue hot and wet. Patrick gasped and shivered.

He began to tug at Pete's shirt - it was pretty unfair that Patrick was half naked but Pete wasn't, and Patrick's fingers itched to feel the bat-heart-skull tattoo again.

Pete smirked, as if reading his mind, and fluently pulled his shirt over his head.

Patrick was once again taken aback by how beautiful Pete was. His tanned skin was perfectly smooth, and his sleek muscles moved as he shifted around. Feeling bold, Patrick leaned up on an elbow and bit the skin above Pete's right nipple, his free hand already stroking the tattoo under his belly button. Pete gasped as Patrick sucked on the skin to leave a dark bruise. Smirking at his handiwork, Patrick leaned up and kissed Pete's mouth sloppily.

Pete moved his lips to Patrick's jaw, and down to his neck. Patrick shivered at Pete found a sensitive spot below his jawbone. He continued trailing his lips down, biting down hard on some spots, making Patrick's skin crawl and and dick twitch. Pete shifted his body as he went, until he was kissing the spot below Patrick's belly button, right above the hem of his jeans. Patrick swallowed, and Pete began fumbling at the button, managing to undo it and shoving his jeans down all the way. Patrick kicked them off.

Pete then grasped Patrick's thighs in both hands and pulled them apart slightly, before bending down to delicately kiss the sensitive skin.

Patrick felt as if his nerves were on fire. He squirmed and moaned at the new sensation. Pete suddenly hooked a finger under Patrick's boxers, and before he knew what was happening, his hard dick was exposed to the cold air, making him flinch and shiver.

And then Pete's face was hovering right above it. Patrick propped himself up on his elbows, half expecting what was coming next as his heart picked up at the thought.

Pete locked eyes with him, and in one single motion, swallowed his entire cock.

Patrick's entire being exploded with fireworks, and all he could do was throw his head back and let out a high pitched whine, thrusting his hips up. Pete slowly pulled his head up, circling his tongue around the tip. He used both hands to hold Patrick's hips down, but Patrick was trying to thrust up again anyways.

After two more swallows, Patrick felt like he was about to come.

"Wait!" he squeaked with difficulty. Pete looked up in confusion, and Patrick whined at the lack of contact.

"Are you ok?" Pete asked, panting slightly.

Patrick nodded. "I want you, I want you to, I want..." He was unable to get the words out, and all he could think about was the lack of friction he was experiencing. "Peeeete!" he moaned. "Please, just, ah, fuck me, Pete, fuck me please! I need you."

"Fuck, Patrick," Pete gasped, eyes wide and pupils dilated. He leaned down and kissed him hard. Patrick bit Pete's lower lip, before releasing it and letting out a whimper.

"I don't have lube, fuck, shit, fuck the apocalypse," Pete groaned, with a hint of panic in his voice.

"Pete, I don't care, I need you inside me now, please!" Patrick insisted, wiggling slightly.

"Right." Pete lifted two finger to his mouth, covering them in saliva. "Ok if you want me to stop just say so," he said. Patrick growled impatiently.

Suddenly, something cold was touching Patrick's entrance. He froze, irrational fear clenching at his chest.

"Shh, relax, it's ok," Pete soothed. He leaned down and licked a stripe up from the base of Patrick's dick to the head, swirling his tongue at the top. Patrick moaned loudly, and almost didn't feel Pete push a finger into him. Almost.

It was a weird feeling, although not quite painful yet. He shifted a little, trying to adjust to the feel of it. As soon as he started getting comfortable with it inside him, another finger was prodding at his hole.

Pete went down on his cock again, but it wasn't enough to distract him from the pain of a second finger. He bit his lip to stop the cry trying to escape.

"You're ok, it's ok," Pete said calmly. "Relax." Patrick complied. and Pete started wiggling his fingers around inside. Patrick frowned slightly at the feeling, squirming in discomfort.

When Pete added the third finger, Patrick let out a sharp yelp. And now it felt as if Pete was looking for something, reaching deeper and deeper inside.

And suddenly- "FUCK!" Patrick moaned loudly as Pete's fingers hit something that was sending electric currents through his veins.

Pete grinned triumphantly and stroked again. Patrick shook at the feel of it, and then his fingers were gone.

Patrick made a small noise in complaint, but then Pete was licking the palm of his hand and rubbing something Patrick couldn't see, and then he was leaning forward to kiss Patrick on the mouth, and then-

Patrick clawed at the blankets under him, mouth and eyes opening wide. Something thick and warm was pressing up against Patrick's entrance, and then pushing in, much bigger than Pete's fingers.

"Oh, fuck, fuck fuck fuck, Pete!" Patrick moaned. Pete paused, waiting for Patrick to get used to the stretch. As soon as he realized, Pete started to push in again, but it was easier this time.

And then he was pulling out, and back in, and Patrick started rocking his hips in time with Pete's thrusts, and they created a rhythm.

Pete kissed Patrick, and Patrick moaned into the kiss. Then, he shifted his angle until he was hitting the sweet spot with every thrust. Patrick heard moans and screams that got louder with each thrust before he realized that they were his own.

And then Pete was stroking Patrick's dick in time with the thrusts, and it was too much, he started to feel a tightness in his stomach and his body seemed to shrink in on itself.

"Pete, I'm gonna, I'm so close, fuck-" he moaned loudly.

"Yes, yes 'Trick, yes," Pete moaned, and Patrick was coming hard, harder than he had in his entire life combined. He screamed Pete's name along with it, and Pete watched him, cheeks red with pleasure. Patrick's heartbeat was racing, his breathing shallow.

Then, with two more thrusts, Pete was biting at Patrick's collar bone, forehead resting in the crook of his neck, and coming inside Patrick, screams slightly muffled.

Neither of them moved for a full minute. They lay there tangled in each other, panting and catching up with their hearts.

Neither of them had trouble falling asleep as soon as Pete rolled off Patrick and curled into his side.

[•]

"Patrick," Pete whispered the next day, around 5 p.m.

"Yes?" Patrick asked, looking up at him. There was a terrified look in his eyes and Patrick's heartbeat picked up. "What's wrong, Pete?"

"My head hurts. And my legs." His voice was soft. Patrick's stomach twisted. That was the same complaint that started off Andy and Joe's sickness.

"Oh, Pete," Patrick choked, pulling him into a hug. Pete sniffled.

[•]

That night, the room was fillies with their gasps and moans once again, but this time there was something more desperate and rushed about the whole thing. Patrick didn't care, he just needed Pete, needed him more than anything in the world at that moment.

Both of them came fairly quicker than the night before, but it was almost as good, and Patrick's entire body trembled with the orgasm. As Pete rolled off of him, snuggling into Patrick's open embrace, Patrick was suddenly hit with the thought that he didn't want to live in a world without Pete. He couldn't live in a world without Pete. Because without Pete, he had no one to live for, and there was no point living half a life in a dying world.

Just before he drifted off to sleep, he heard Pete murmur "I don't want to suffer anymore, Patrick."

[•]

Patrick had made a decision.

He woke up late the next day, around 11 a.m. according to his watch. He carefully untangled himself from Pete's arms, leaving him sleeping, looking peaceful and young.

He trudged over to their food supply, fingers shaking as he picked up the last four cans, two packs of skittles, and a bag of hot Cheetos. There was nothing left.

He laid it all down neatly on the floor. At that moment, Pete shuffled over, hair an unkempt mess. He looked down at Patrick suspiciously.

"Wasgoinon," he mumbled, yawning and sitting on the floor across from Patrick.

Patrick swallowed and reached behind him, grabbing the two shotguns and placing it on the wood floor in from of him, next to the food. Pete's eyes snapped open, and he instinctively leaned away from them, and looking up at Patrick in confusion.

"Last meal," Patrick whispered, voice shaking. "And then we're done. No more suffering. We die together, with each other. On our own terms. I'm not going to wait for a disease to take you away, and I don't want to be alone again. It's up to you Pete."

[•]

Pete was very awake now. His heart and head were racing at 100 miles per hour, the awful ache in his limbs forgotten for a second.

He spluttered a little bit, unsure of what he was going to say next. Patrick maintained eye contact with him as he thought.

He gazed into Patrick's steady blue-grey eyes, the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. He remembered Andy and Joe's last days, and his heart clenched. Patrick was right. There was no point in waiting for death to claim them. This was the only way.

He gulped, stomach churning. "Ok," he said.

Patrick closed his eyes and let out a shallow breath. Pete suddenly noticed the tension in his face and arms.

When he opened his eyes, he just smiled weakly.

"Bon appetit," he said softly.

The two of them are the last of their food in complete silence. The air hung heavy around them. When the last bite was gone, Pete realized he was truly full for the first time in a long time.

He shoved all the empty cans and bags aside and crawled into Patrick's lap before kissing him softly. Patrick kissed back sweetly. Their kisses didn't hold their usual fire or passion, they were gentle and slow and perfect. They were goodbye kisses.

Then something cold is pressed into Pete's hand. He didn't recoil, instead he gripped it tightly.

After another minute, they broke apart, pressing their foreheads together. Pete squeezed his eyes closed, forcing himself not to cry. When he pulled his forehead away, he saw that both of them were holding a gun. Heartbeat threatening to split his chest open, he shifted off of Patrick's lap and stroked the side of his face gently with trembling fingers. His gaze didn't leave the beautiful eyes that had captured his attention from the first day in the store, when Patrick had pinned him to the wall and threatened to kill him. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

"This is it," Pete whispered. "I love you." He didn't know how close to the truth it was but he was about to die at the age of seventeen, not even a legal adult, and Patrick was the only person left on the planet that he cared about, and he had no one else, and he was going to confess his love to Patrick because this was the closest thing he had ever felt to love, and he was going to embrace it with all his being.

Patrick exhaled slowly, clenching his eyes shut and opening them again. He looked Pete in the eye, baby blues meeting wide eyed browns. "I love you too, Pete," he whispered brokenly. "Ready?"

Pete's heart skipped several beats. The tight ball in his stomach and the lump in his throat grew a little more.

Pete nodded. Slowly, he lifted his gun up to rest against Patrick's chest, right over his thudding heartbeat. Patrick did the same to him, hand shaking a little. Their left hands grasped for each other and clasped tightly upon contact, both palms sweaty.

"Three," Patrick said shakily.

Deep breath.

"Two," Pete replied. Their left hands scrambled together tighter.

Deep breath. Patrick's eyes really were a beautiful last sight before death. 

"One," they whispered together.

BANG.

**Author's Note:**

> it didn't turn out as well as I wanted it to but I got tired of holding onto this. also! my first peterick smut.. hopefully it wasn't too shitty. thanks for reading all the way down to here, I would love to receive any feedback :)


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